


For My Personal Collection

by krisherdown



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Photographer, Dark, Dirty Talk, M/M, Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-08
Updated: 2009-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krisherdown/pseuds/krisherdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Andy is a photographer who has found the perfect model to manipulate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is based off an original fiction I wrote back in 2008. So if you find it, yes, it is me - guess you can say I'm plagiarizing myself.

Andy gets a kick out of making the pretty boys uncomfortable. That's what he tells himself whenever he sets up a session like this.

"Are you Andrew Murray?" Ah, the new one. Andy looks up to find the guy he met outside the grounds of the US Open. A Frenchman who loved following the sport like a pathetic groupie, his favorite player had been Justine Henin. Sure, he said that it was because her game was so beautiful, blah blah blah. Andy saw a picture of her and was convinced this Richie would be the perfect one for this piece.

That day, Richie's girlfriend Alize was clutching his arm, perfectly aware that she had good eye candy and wanted it to be clear to all. Okay, so she was a tennis player, making his pilgrimage to the states appear a little less crazy.

Andy was a legitimate photographer. He had a portfolio to prove it. His provocative photos had been featured in ad campaigns, billboards posted throughout the United States. Hiding behind a camera while more explicit activity took place was a natural extension.

He leads Richie into the apartment. It's a workspace doubling as his home. After all, the price of an apartment in New York, even for a plain hole-in-the-wall, was quite high.

"So you said this..." Richie stops dead in his tracks upon seeing Gael lounging on the couch in a sleeveless tee and worn-out jeans. "What, exactly, is this shoot about?"

"Well, it's a black and white piece. No pun intended. It's just that Gael photographs magnificently and I need a contrast. Gael, this is Ri-shard."

Gael extends his hand, which Richie accepts. "Nice to meet you, Richie."

Richie is fidgeting with his pocket, suddenly appearing uncomfortable with the situation. "Mr. Murray, I think there's been a misunderstanding."

"You find Gael intimidating?" Andy asked, knowing it would work well to question Richie's manhood. Yes, Gael is a few inches taller but it's the guy's physique that made it appear to be more. Hell, Andy himself was nearly Gael's height but there was no comparison as to who was more intimidating. Even though technically, Gael was Andy's assistant on the real photo shoots.

The thing was that Gael loved watching boys like Richie squirm. Then there were the perks of this side job.

Gael grabs the pile of clothes on the couch and hands them to Richie. Just a simple white t-shirt and jeans. Andy had already told Richie this was for a cologne campaign, so the clothing was not the focus. Made it easy to get cheap attire. If it was maybe a size or so too small, well, that would be the plan, actually.

Richie looks from Gael to the clothes to Andy, wanting to say something but not sure what. He heads to the bathroom to change.

Gael comments, "You're picking very well, Andy. I didn't think you could lure a Frenchman. At least I can speak to him in my native tongue."

"Yeah, well, I'd prefer you didn't do that. He looks downright adorable when fumbling for the correct English phrase."

"I understand you. So, you think he's bi? You mentioned the girlfriend but he's much prettier than her."

"How do you know that?"

"I follow tennis, especially this time of year. Alize Cornet is pretty but she's no Richie."

Andy kidded, "You also have strange taste in men. That Spanish player who's now number 1?"

"It's the arms, man."

"Yeah, they're scarier than yours."

When Richie returns, Andy and Gael stop bantering and exchange glances, then both smile. Andy explains, “Okay, you don’t really have to do much. Gael will be doing most of the movement. I need you to appear as if you’re in charge. Just cross your arms over your chest.”

Richie plants his feet and goes into position, then Andy begins snapping. Gael stands behind Richie, muscular arms trapping him in this pose as Gael settles his hands on Richie’s waist.

“Er, Mr. Murray…”

Andy cuts him off. “Let him go.” Richie breathes a sigh of relief as Gael does so. It is short-lived as Andy continues, “The t-shirt isn’t working. Lose it.”

Richie stares at the photographer, wanting to complain but relents, revealing his nicely tanned and toned upper body.

Andy nods. “That’s better. Gael, back in position.” Gael grins and Richie frowns as there is now no fabric separating this touch. “I want it to seem as if you’re both in the picture. Gael, rest your chin on Richie’s shoulder. But not a cheesy Hallmark thing, more possessive.”

“I think I understand,” Gael says. His hands slip down so his thumbs are hanging on the pockets of Richie’s jeans then settles on his shoulder, his gaze toward the more nervous partner.

Andy smiles. This really is working well as Richie stiffens his posture. From Gael’s position, he imagines that his breath is tickling Richie’s ear. Richie will wish his girlfriend felt this good.

That said, Andy could see room for improvement in the pose. Even though this wasn’t for a publication, the perfectionist in him wouldn’t let the picture stay. “Neither of you move. Just…”

Andy sets the camera down and approaches them. He stands right in front of Richie and undoes the button of the jeans, then adjusts the band of the boxers so it’s not in view.

Richie is studying the photographer the entire time. Andy feels eyes on him but doesn’t want to see the expression. On the other hand, it means Andy is looking down, right at Richie’s hardening cock. Andy tells himself that Gael is doing his job perfectly, not wanting to admit anything further.

When Andy backs away, he gets another idea. “Gael, lay your hands flat against the jeans, but pull down on the thumbs in the pocket. Got me?”

Gael gives a wide smile. His fingers _accidentally_ touch Richie’s cock, to which Gael whispers an apology he doesn’t mean, before settling on the upper thigh. Fingers wrap inside Richie’s thigh, so he’s still pretty close to the ultimate goal. The jeans are hanging dangerously low now, exposing hip bones and a trace of hair.

Richie’s face reddens as he struggles not to react, to no avail. He squeaks out, “Are we going to be much longer?”

“I’m not sure. Why, is there some place you need to be?” Andy stares right into Richie’s wide eyes, daring him to object.

“No… it’s just… nevermind.” Beads of sweat trail down his torso, more on edge by the moment.

Andy hides his smile. Richie doesn’t seem to know how to speak up, to get out of this soft porn situation.

Gael says, “Actually, I do. I’m supposed to meet Gilles pretty soon.”

“Fair enough.” This is also part of the plan. That Gael riles the guy up then leaves them alone. What happens after that depends on the guy. “Then let’s try one more position before you have to leave. I can try a few with just Richie after. From that position, Richie, I want you to turn toward Gael as if you’re going to kiss him.”

“I’m not, right? I don’t make out with guys.”

“No, you’re not,” Andy promises. “Just look at him the way you’d look at your girlfriend. Well, except looking up instead of down, of course. Now, Gael, rest one hand on the zipper of Richie’s jeans, as if you wanted him right now.”

“You mean I don’t?” Gael kids.

“You have Gilles, remember?”

“Right. Of course.” Gael tries to do so, this time it’s unavoidable to have his hand on Richie’s dick but he tries to be professional and find a spot where that isn’t quite as obvious. Richie lets out a gasp as the jeans struggle to hold back the strain.

Andy is about to tell Richie to turn to Gael but his voice is caught in his throat as he now is aware Richie is staring right at him. He simply points toward Gael, which gives Richie the message. Somehow, he’s able to get a few shots steady; it's difficult as now he is thankful he abided by the artist’s cliché of wearing all black.

Andy is ready give them a break and let Gael go for the day when the phone’s ring shatters the atmosphere. Gael’s fingers end up unlocking the zipper, which immediately slips down. “Damn it,” he mutters.

When Richie begins to feel a breeze from the flap of his boxers, he jolts away from Gael. The action has the zipper descend the rest of the way, the jeans falling off his ass. The boxers, white in color and drenched in sweat, do nothing to hide his rock-hard cock. He sees the clear outline protruding out and turns away from Gael and Andy so they can’t see any more.

This hadn’t been part of the plan. Andy isn’t sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Andy says quietly, “Gael, you’d better go. I’m sure that was Gilles.” Gael nods, thankful to be excused.

When Gael shuts the bathroom door, Andy is shocked to hear Richie apologizing, “I know it was not professional but his hands were driving my body crazy. I mean, I’m not gay or anything but I dare any guy to be able to resist when you’re that close. But now I’m going to ruin everything.”

“What are you talking about?” Andy watches Richie’s back, as he refuses to turn around. Richie is pulling at the jeans, giving Andy a better view of his ass.

“This is going to sound stupid but I can’t get back in my pants. I mean, your pants. I… can’t.”

“Gael’s in the bathroom.”

“I know. Shit. I wanted you to be impressed because I know you’re giving me this amazing opportunity. Instead, I get turned on and now it’s ruining the shoot.”

This sets Andy off. Forget about his own throbbing erection, which he had been able to conceal prior to that clear vision of Richie’s cock through the see-through boxers. He walks over to console the guy. “Don’t freak out.”

“Alize was convinced you were hitting on me but I said this would be my big break. I’m glad I talked her out of coming here today. She’d laugh at me.”

Andy hates how out-of-control this has gotten. He sets a hand on Richie’s arm, which is still struggling with the jeans. “Would you feel better if I was hitting on you?”

“I like that you enjoy your job. That you are meticulous with detail so the result is perfect. Even if getting there involves embarrassment. Sorry.”

Andy has to break away then, shaking his head furiously as he walks over to the counter to focus on his camera. “Stop apologizing. Please stop apologizing. This shoot _isn’t_ real and your girlfriend is right.”

“Really?” Richie’s tone is flat and Andy really doesn’t want to see his reaction. He gives a quick nod it clear Richie is waiting for an answer. “So you _are_ hitting on me? Is this a form of torture you enjoy?”

“It wasn’t supposed to go this far. It was basically over right around when the phone rang.”

Andy hears footsteps then can feel Richie standing right behind him.

“Do you think this is the only way to get a guy to do what you want?”

Andy can’t tell from the even tone if he’s about to get pounded into the ground. “That’s not the story.”

“You have to hide behind this photographer’s image… you _are_ a real photographer, after all… for what? You have success.”

Can’t tell him to stop talking or else Andy won’t have that “real” photography career. Can’t answer that question truthfully either because… well, he just can’t. So he says flatly, “Absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

“Funny. I am seeing this as I have the power. _You_ need _me_ in order to keep your career. Maybe you’ll get to keep that. But you have to do exactly what I say.”   
  


	2. Chapter 2

Andy's shoulders stiffen up at that news. Richie enjoys that he got a reaction out of the photographer because people don't usually take him seriously when he gets angry.  
  
But before there was any more to see, Gael emerges from the bathroom, now in a sweatshirt and workout pants. "It's okay for me to leave now?" He turns to Richie. "I'm so sorry about what happened."   
  
Richie waves off the apology, eager for him to get out. Didn't want any witnesses, as he was just the accomplice.   
  
"Oh. Okay then. So if there's anything else..."   
  
Andy says softly, "That is all."   
  
When he exits, Richie chuckles. "You didn't say anything?"   
  
"Neither did you."   
  
"But isn't he your partner in crime?"   
  
"Gael riles them up, then leaves. That's always been the plan."   
  
"And then what?"   
  
Andy narrows his gaze. "It's not what you're thinking."   
  
"So when Gael left, you weren't planning to get me completely naked?"   
  
"No."   
  
"Oh. Then, what, you're looking to humiliate me?"   
  
Andy shrugs, sort of agreeing but it sounding stupid to say it out loud.   
  
"I see." Richie backs away, tapping his finger to his chin as he decides what to do next. "Lean against the closet door and face me."   
  
Andy did as told. The fear highlights his face. The erection he'd been hiding before was now in plain sight.   
  
Richie chuckles at the sight then stalks over. It's not until he's right in front of Andy that he realizes something. "This is what you really want, isn't it? You find someone attractive but you crave that person even though the person clearly has a girlfriend. So you set up this elaborate scheme so you can't get rejected."   
  
Andy had the presence to look embarrassed about that, staring at his shoes. "Yeah, I suppose."   
  
"Keep your eyes on my face and your hands away and this won't be bad."   
  
Andy nods, looking up. Richie takes a deep breath, sure now that Andy won't look down. Not that he had the faintest idea what he'd have done if Andy didn't obey, but it appears that part isn't going to be an issue. He's not used to people taking what he says seriously. Not that he wants to admit that it's a nice change of pace.   
  
Even though Andy is actually two inches taller than Richie, he is slouching so they are eye-to-eye. Unlike Gael, Andy is not physically imposing, his eyes shifting due to having trouble staring at him without it meaning anything. His reddish hair has curls that refuse to stay in place, even though his hair is cut quite short.   
  
Richie's hands are on Andy's belt, unbuckling then pulling it from the loops. He grabs onto one of Andy's hands and pushes it back behind him, working the belt so it's looped around the wrist then does the same with the other wrist. Richie ties it around the doorknob to secure it tight, feeling the same rush from when Alize first suggested doing that to him.   
   
Andy is aware of the body that is so close to his as this is being done. Richie still has his shirt off. Since he was never was able to get the jeans closed, they're barely staying on his hips and his still-present erection accidentally brushes Andy's hip. Andy knows he should be scared but his dick is reacting to the close proximity. Nonetheless, Andy does hold to the promise just made and stays focused on Richie's face with his hands away, though itching to do more.  
  
Richie hisses in Andy's ear, "When is the last time you got this close to a guy? How much does it bother you that you can't do anything?"   
  
"Look, if you're going to attack me, just do it already and stop talking." Andy's voice is laced with panic, not arousal, meaning his body is betraying what is happening.   
  
Not that Richie should care about that. "You think I'm gonna beat you up? Or worse?" His voice is low and sultry, in hopes to eliminate the fear from the situation.   
  
"I don't know. Maybe you're the type who gets off on overpowering someone."   
  
Richie laughs at this, not sure what to think about the situation. His tone is practically flirty when he says, "So you want to get off instead?" Richie pops the button on Andy's pants then drags his fingers slowly along the zipper as if he were lowering it. Andy tries not to flinch but cannot resist, even though his brain knows what Richie is doing. "It must bother you so much that you can't look. You can't even hide behind that damn camera." As he says this, his fingers work their way back up the zipper until settling past the tab, hitting warm skin. Richie's hands slip under Andy's black sweater, feeling Andy shiver at the touch.   
  
Richie isn't sure when this turned from embarrassment to revenge to a turn-on but it has. He likes that Andy is obeying but is saddened that it is due to fear. That Andy chose Richie because he possessed qualities attractive to him and it's that reason that has his body defiantly reacting.   
  
Richie lifts the fabric until he can get it over Andy's head. He presses his body flush against Andy's as he slowly lowers the material down Andy's arms until it bunches above the belt.  
  
This time, Richie doesn't want to back away. He can't even claim he's getting harder because of Andy's manipulations, as this was his own stupid plan.   
  
Andy has sensed the shift as well, asking timidly, "What are you doing?"   
  
"You're going to pay." Richie doesn't sound convincing this time. He can tell Andy wants to point out what Richie is painfully aware. Before Andy can say so, Richie shoves Andy against the wall and kisses him.   
  
Andy doesn't simply stay still. He uses his hands to push his body off the wall, to allow for a better position. Richie lets out a gasp as he can feel Andy's erection against his own and not enough material separating them. Andy sneaks his tongue into Richie's agape mouth.  
  
Richie feels like he's about to let go, which would totally defeat the initial purpose. The earlier photo shoot has clearly screwed up his entire body, as he wants to keep kissing this schemer. He realizes he must speed this up, hurriedly lowering the zipper of Andy's pants and allowing them to pool to the floor.   
  
When Richie finally pulls away from Andy's mouth, more than a minute later, he assesses his work. Andy is slumped against the door, his face flushed in spots and pale and freckly in others. His black boxers in stark contrast to the rest of his frame, clearly just as affected as Richie has been.  
  
Richie wants to say something clever at this moment. Some groan-inducing one-liner so he could make his exit. Instead, he simply picks up the clothes he came in with and throws the button-down shirt on, misbuttoning in his haste, and walks out the door.  
  
It was five minutes before Andy starts on trying to get unfastened from the doorknob, slumping down to the floor so that his fingers could slip the metal from the belt-hole.   
  
* * * * *   
  
"Hi sweetie," Alize calls out as she entered the hotel room. She looks around, seeing his sneakers on the floor and an unfamiliar pair of men's jeans on the bed but no sign of her boyfriend. She turns to the shut bathroom door. "Richie, darling? Are you okay?"   
  
"Sure," his voice faintly replies, not feeling quite right since returning to the room. What he needed right now was a nice lovemaking session with his beautiful girlfriend.   
  
"This has been such a long day. I hope you haven't been too bored. So many practice sessions, interviews in unfamiliar languages, oh how was that photo session? Did the guy think you were worthy of this cologne campaign?"  
  
Richie says simply, "He'd have to talk to his boss but the pictures, he said, came out great."   
  
"Oh, this is so amazing. I always knew I had the hottest boyfriend on the WTA and it'd be great to have ads to prove it." She opens the bathroom door and gives Richie a quick kiss on the cheek then walks out. "I hope you don't mind that I turn in early tonight. The schedule came out and I have the first match on court tomorrow. Eleven o'clock sharp."   
  
She never notices that he is standing there in a misbuttoned shirt and boxers, staring in the mirror as he struggles to figure out how everything went haywire.   
  



	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Andy is looking at the photographs while trying to drown out Gael's enthusiasm. Gilles had surprised Gael yesterday with tickets to the night matches at the US Open.  
  
Finally, Andy had had enough. He drops the photos on the table and asks, "What's so great about tennis?"  
  
"What?" Gael sputters. "It's only _the best_ sport for seeing hot guys."  
  
"Swimming..."  
  
"Year-round, not once every four years."  
  
"You mean like Rafael-with-the-freaky-arms?"  
  
"Even more impressive in reality," Gael affirms. "French guys are so yummy. There's this one guy; they compare him to Muhammad Ali. I don't think I ever fantasized about Ali, however. Jo, his name is, such a sight. Gilles added him to the list of guys it's okay to have sex with, so it wasn't just me."  
  
"Wonderful," Andy replies sarcastically.  
  
"No interest? Not even a national pride level."  
  
"It used to be there was two weeks in the year when Tim Henman would whip people into a frenzy. It's not like it even inspired a Brit to follow that once he retired. I'll stick to football, thank you."  
  
"You're just bitter because a certain tennis player's cutie boyfriend has messed up your brain."  
  
"That has nothing to do with anything."  
  
"Alize plays today. You can probably find your precious Richie in the stands."  
  
"Like you weren't just as interested."

"Well, he _is_ a lovely physical specimen. I did enjoy getting him flustered. But you haven't told me what happened after I left."  
  
Andy insists a little too loudly, "Nothing!"  
  
"Yeah, I don't believe you." Gael is scanning schedules when he says nonchalantly, "Your brother is stopping by later. Maybe he can get details."  
  
"One, do you really think Jamie _cares_ about my personal life? Two, do you really think I'd tell him _anything_?"  
  
Gael replies triumphantly, "So there's something to tell!"  
  
Andy gets annoyed with the questioning, snatching the sheet from Gael's hands, grumbling, "He just needs to rub his success in my face."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Jamie is relaying his busy week to Andy, who is trying to pay attention to the tennis match currently airing. "There are just so many business meetings to attend. That's the price for being the face of a line of soccer gear."  
  
Andy corrects, "Football. You're not a damn Yankee."  
  
"Look, if they're paying me six figures, I will be okay with calling it soccer. It _is_ for the United States, after all."  
  
"The people in Scotland would eat you alive if they ever found out what you do."  
  
Jamie shrugs, not exactly feeling a sense of national pride. "They would look down on either of us for what we do. We're not exactly hooligans. Our mum's a fashionista so we were doomed from the start."  
  
"Mum's the reason you models look like chiseled sticks."  
  
"Aw, wishing you got the looks in the family instead?"  
  
Andy's glare did little to wipe the smile off Jamie's face. "I deal with enough of your self-centered idiot compatriots."  
  
Jamie looks at the television screen. "Isn't that the guy in the photograph?"  
  
Andy grumbles under his breath, wishing Jamie had never seen the photo that had landed under the table earlier. Sure enough, it is an audience shot of Alize Cornet's match. "Yeah."  
  
"What did the agencies say about him?"  
  
"I just got the prints. Haven't had time to do anything else."  
  
"He would be a great ad model."  
  
"Really?" Andy says skeptically, glancing toward the envelope containing the rest of the photos. "I suppose so." He had something else in mind with the photos, meant to mess with Richie's brain as well, but maybe he should try. If Jamie thought at least that pic was legit, there may really be something there.  
  
"Are you attending the Calvin Klein event this weekend? Jelena thought it would be a great networking opportunity for you. New clients..."  
  
When Jamie starts sounding like their mother, it's time to get him to leave. "Thank you. I will take that under consideration. Even though I have enough money to not need that kind of help."  
  
* * * * *  
  
When Andy gets a phone call from Alize the morning after he delivered the photos, he was certain it was the end of his rope.  
  
It just seems too bizarre to him that Alize would use him to sell her relationship with Richie to a French magazine. What was initially a scam suddenly became an important opportunity. He schedules them quickly before Richie has a chance to open his mouth. It helps the cause that Alize will be heading to her next tournament in China in a few days.  
  
They arrive at the apartment the evening after her third round victory. It is clear that Alize is the one in control in this relationship, leading Richie into the apartment as she officially introduces herself.  
  
Alize seems to have coordinated the clothing as well. She is wearing a light blue zip-up jacket and black leggings. Richie has a fitted black t-shirt and a pair of jeans that deserve to be in the garbage they were so worn-out. Andy smirks as he realizes Alize wants a recreation of the other photo shoot.  
  
He doesn't let on, however. "Anything specific you're looking for?"  
  
"I'm thinking simple yet gritty. When I saw the pictures, I really just wanted to drag Richie into a closet and ravage him."  
  
"Wow." Andy turns to Richie. "You have some girlfriend."  
  
Richie nods but he's not really wanting to face either one of them.  
  
Alize continues, "This isn't some cutesy Valentine's photo. I want it to shock. I want people to realize that I'm not this innocent little thing."  
  
Andy raises an eyebrow, finding it difficult to believe _anyone_ pictures her that way. "I will do my best. I would guess that you," referring to Alize, “are the main attraction.”   
  
“Well, until you work your magic and Richie gets modeling work.”  
  
“Right,” Andy says doubtfully. “Now, it wouldn’t quite make sense to do everything _exactly_ the same, as you’re a bit shorter than the other model. Plus, the press knows you and it’s kind of like you’re showcasing a new face but you’re the draw. With that in mind, start by Richie’s side, wrapping your arms around his waist.” Alize nods, then the couple get into position.  
  
Andy takes a few pics but it isn’t working. He turns away, trying to imagine a shot. He’s buying time by fixing the lighting when he realizes Richie is watching him, even as Alize is throwing out other ideas.  
  
The last idea she says is, “I remember the last time he wore these jeans, there was this other player who would not stop flirting with him. Maria thinks she can just snap her fingers and get any guy she wants."  
  
 Andy smiles at this story, muttering, "So you want this photo to say, 'He's mine, back off bitch'?"  
  
Alize laughs. "I like that." Richie narrows his stare on Andy, suspecting Andy's setting up another "fake" shoot.  
  
"I can work with that. Alize, drape one arm on his shoulder. Richie, stuff your hands in your pocket, as if you don't care what she's doing."  
  
Andy takes a few shots, then says, "Press against each other. You're not fucking brother and sister. No passion, no heat. How long have you two been together?"  
  
"A year," Alize answers plainly.  
  
Richie is irritated by the comments, saying defensively, "There's passion. There's nothing dull about us."     
  
Andy smirks, the closest he'll come to admitting he enjoyed irritating the Frenchman. "So, do you two confine the activities to the bedroom or do you sneak off into closets and bathroom stalls?"  
  
Alize tilts her head, surprised by the question. "Rather frank about it."  
  
"Look, I'm not selling the story to the press. Just had an idea but I'm not sure if you two would be kinky enough for it."  
  
Richie gives Andy a daring look, refusing to back down from this challenge. "Go right ahead."    Alize glances Richie's way, puzzled by the game of chicken, then admits, "If it gets too much, we have the other photos. But I really liked the entire bunch you sent me."  
  
Andy nods, thinking it a little odd that she liked seeing a guy draped all over her boyfriend in an homoerotic manner. "Follow my lead. Keep in mind it's the allusion to something that leads to erotic. When it actually happens, it is explicit. Got it?"   
  
"I am clay in your hands, Mr. Murray."    
  
Andy faintly wishes _Richie_ had said that instead of Alize but it is still useful to know.  
  
"So the idea is the morning-after effect. Richie, don't move unless I say so because the position is perfect. Alize, mess up his hair and tilt his head toward you as if you were going to kiss. Let your hands wander, finding the spot you know drives him wild."  
  
Alize does as told, positioning Richie's face so it is half to the camera then weaves an arm under Richie's until she settles her hand under his t-shirt. The t-shirt rides up a little, exposing a sliver of skin, while she is softly letting her fingers brush against the spot.  
  
Andy shakes his head. This doesn't seem to be working for Richie. He briefly considers having them make out first but he really doesn't want that visual. Plus, he doesn't want to give Richie that satisfaction. Then he has it - a way to get to Richie without Alize even knowing it. "I don't want Alize to lose her facial position but the emotions aren't coming through. So I'm going to talk and you imagine she's doing it."  
  
The couple nod, neither aware of what's to come.  
  
"Good. Okay. She's seen the photos and wants you so bad. The problem is she's stuck doing publicity when you're supposed to be having a romantic dinner. There's glasses of water and iced tea with lemon on the table. She's been teasing you throughout the meal, running her hand on your thigh as she nonchalantly answers questions. The interviewer is so busy fawning over her that he knocks over the glasses and the contents spill in your lap. It's wet and cold and the napkins on the table just aren't working. You excuse yourself and head to the men's room. Luckily for you, there's nobody else in the bathroom so you turn on the hand dryer and try to get that to work. The hot air _does_ feel quite nice but the liquid has soaked through. You've lowered the zipper of your jeans and just as you start to get your boxers dry, she walks in. Before you have a chance to say anything, she locks the bathroom door, your back is against the wall and she's on her knees in front of you."  
  
This is definitely working for both of them and Andy quickly resumes taking pictures. He hears Alize whisper toward Richie, "You want this so badly. You're heating up." Her hand subconsciously wanders toward the button of his jeans, slipping her fingers over the metal until it is barely in the buttonhole. Her hand is pushing down as well, though thankfully not on the zipper as Gael had done before.    
  
Though as Andy had hoped, it _is_ triggering memories of the other shoot. When her fingers trail along the zipper, it is a reminder of the way Richie had taunted _him_. Richie is squirming from her touch, not helped by his own hands being so close to his hardening dick but not being able to actually do anything without causing suspicion. Richie shoves his hands further down the pockets, inadvertently lowering the jeans from his waist in the process.  
  
Andy tries to stay focused on his work. Very important assignment. _Not_ a situation to mess up by being turned-on by his model. But seeing the jeans slip is having that effect. Andy is almost certain that Richie has gone commando this time or else he'd have been focused on the waistband ruining the shot by now.  
  
Alize interrupts the moment by asking, "Is this working for you?"  
  
Andy's mouth feels dry and he's sure he sounds like he did during puberty when answering, "Yes." He takes a few quick shots then breathes deeply before announcing, "I think I have enough."  
  
Richie nods, relieved, then quickly turns away from both of them. Alize asks, "Think it will have Maria wishing she was me?"  
  
Andy glances Richie's way, trying not to be wistful as he answers, "I think it'll have _a lot_ of people wishing they were you."


	4. Chapter 4

Richie has been asleep in bed when he hears a screech from Alize at the other end of the hotel room. He opens one eye and sees her with a large manila envelope in her hand with photos sticking out.  
  
“Great,” Richie mutters, hiding under his pillow. “He wastes no time.”   
  
“These are marvelous.” Alize runs to the bed and jumps on it.   
  
Richie grumbles, “Please stop.”   
  
“Oh sweetie. This could open so many doors. For both of us.”   
  
“I know. You’ve said that at least ten times.”   
  
“Better than waiting tables, no?”   
  
Truth is, Richie has no idea what he wants to do with his life and it’s frustrating being around someone who’s known exactly what she wanted since she was a child. Traveling with Alize is a good way to avoid thinking of that stuff. Traveling can also be mind-numbing and he realizes he prefers having roots for longer than a week or two. “Actually, maybe it would be best if I stayed in New York.”   
  
“Really? Are you seriously going to pursue the modeling thing?”   
  
“Sure. Why not?” Though he would be happier never to model again, there _was_ good money in that. It couldn’t hurt to see if the shoot with Alize opens doors.   
  
“Well, it would only be two months apart. Then I can come back, or we can see family in France and enjoy the offseason together.”   
  
* * * * *   
  
Richie finds a hole in the wall of a place that will suffice for the two suitcases of stuff he has.   
  
Although he has savings to cover the two months, it doesn’t hurt that he’s able to talk his way into a job as a waiter at a French café. It seems that he is qualified based off of working _in_ France, not mattering if he could actually do the job at all as long as there was “authenticity”. Based on the artwork covering the walls, Richie suspected it common to hear talk like that.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A few weeks pass and Andy is able to put the photo shoots out of his mind. So he's blindsided when he gets called into his main boss' office, barely getting one foot in the room when it starts. “I wanted to talk to you about these photos.”  
  
When he realizes his boss is holding the photos of Gael and Richie, all color drains from his face and he tries to apologize. “I wasn’t sure it was right but Jamie insisted...”  
  
“I didn’t know what to think about this kid but then I remembered him as being in pics with that French gal who plays tennis. You took those too.”  
  
Andy raises an eyebrow, not quite as familiar with this guy as he was with the previous man in charge. Then again, it was always tough to understand where Andre was coming from when it came to vision. He tries to keep his voice level and with no trace of panic, when he asks, “How did you find out?”  
  
“When you’re dating a tennis player, you try to be on top of that world. Much like he must stay in tune with the fashion world. Why else do you think he hangs around Anna Wintour?”  
  
“I guess I hadn’t thought that much about it, really. Never realized tennis players were particularly fashionable. I mean, outside of Anna Kournikova.”  
  
“She ‘retired’ years ago. Get in the game, Murray.” The boss lounges back in the desk chair, still flipping through the photos. "So how do I get a hold of this guy?"  
  
“I have his girlfriend’s cell number, Mr. Safin.”  
  
“Girlfriend?” Marat laughs. “That’s not gonna last."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Andy hands the task of finding Richie over to Gael, as there's no photo shoots for the next few days. Once Gael talks to Alize and realizes how close he is, he decides it is the perfect opportunity for Gilles to take him for the Americans' version of French food.  
  
Although Gael has told Gilles about the shoot (in detail, and Gilles wanting his own personal demonstration), he neglects to mention that as the reason for this visit. “This is wonderful,” Gilles exclaims as he and Gael enter the cafe.  
  
When he sees the familiar messy blond hair approaching their table, Gael smiles widely. Sure enough, he's their waiter and as Richie tries to go over the specials, Gael coos, “Oh, darling Richie.”  
  
Richie looks up from the receipts. Upon recognition, his face changes from blank to fleeting anger, gritting out, “Gael, right?”  
  
“Yes. Gilles, this is the guy I met at Andy’s. The photo?”  
  
Gilles gives Richie a once-over. “Okay, I see your point. Better in person.”  
  
“Would you just stop?” Richie mutters. "Can I take your order?"  
  
When Richie returns with their drinks, he can't help but notice the magazine Gilles is holding. The guy on the page looks familiar… “Why does that look like Andy Murray?”  
  
Gilles had been reading the article on the other page so it takes a moment to see what he's talking about. “Oh yeah, that’s his brother. Jamie is the new face for this soccer clothing line.”  
  
“It wouldn’t take much for Andy to look this good.” Richie didn’t mean to say that out loud but it doesn’t get a reaction.  
  
Gael replies, “He did when he was younger. His mom is a modeling coach and pushed both her boys into the business.”  
  
“Really? You wouldn’t know that…”  
  
“The way he hides his looks?” Gilles finishes. “Jamie showed me a clothing catalog from when Andy was 13. Jamie’s always been the happy, friendly one while Andy is a jaded sonofabitch who likes torturing underling employees."  
  
Gael snaps, “No he doesn’t.”  
  
“Well, he did before finding out you could be just as sadistic at times. Speaking of, did he tell you to come here?"  
  
Gilles could read Gael like a book. "Oh, yeah. Richie, there is a reason we're here. Andy sent your photos to some fashion people and there was a bite. It seems this guy is into tennis so he saw the spread with your girlfriend as well." He digs in his pocket for the business card. "Now, you can do whatever you want with this. It no longer has a connection to Andy, if that's your reason to be cautious."  
  
* * * * *  
  
That night, Richie is not so sure about this. He did speak to the guy on the business card and he must admit he is kind of wary.  
  
Truth is, he thinks that Marat Safin sees him more as a nice third wheel in his current relationship than for any modeling opportunity. Richie does mention the girlfriend, the one that Marat has already seen, but it doesn't sound like Mr. Safin believes him.  
  
He does call Alize about it. She waves off his concern, saying that practically everyone comes off as gay in the modeling business because they're so obsessed with their appearance. Her calls have been further and further apart and he suspects he hears a male and Spanish voice in the background when she claims she'd been sleeping, so he's not sure how seriously to take her comments.  
  
Richie can tell that Gilles doesn't hold back, even when it comes to his boyfriend's boss, so maybe he _should_ go for the ride.   
  
Still doesn't explain what possessed him to leave a detailed message on Andy's answering machine. He knows he sounds confused and messed-up but that's probably why Andy picked him in the first place.  
  
He is watching the news or, more appropriately, falling asleep to the news, when his cell rings. "Hello?"  
  
"Why do you need my opinion?" It's Andy. He sounds irritated, likely calling immediately after hearing the message.  
  
"You know more about this..."  
  
"I know nothing. Your _girlfriend_ wanted you to have this opportunity, remember? Why the hell do you need me to say any more?"  
  
"Well, I think Mr. Safin wants me in the same way you do."  
  
Silence on the other end. "Is that so? I'm sure Alize would love that idea."  
  
"Come on. She was joking around. I am not gay."  
  
"You definitely fooled my boss."  
  
"You mean _you_ definitely fooled your boss. Remember, you fucking tricked me. Actually, you did it twice - right in front of Alize."  
  
He knows that Andy is trying not to smile. "Maybe you're just turned on by my voice. You like the brogue and it gets to you. I bet I would have the same effect on you right now if I said those same words. You're probably on your couch, trying not to fall asleep. Rest assured, you will close your eyes and imagine I'm talking to you. Giving you instructions as you have your regular sex dream involving your girlfriend. You'll wake up sweating more than you ever have before, not able to remember what she was doing but my voice lingering in your head giving commentary."  
  
"You're supposed to help me regarding the modeling."  
  
"The modeling business sucks. You want to be Marat's new boy wonder? Go right the fuck ahead. Maybe if you're enough of a tease, you'll even get some work. That world will ruin you and everything you have. It will spit you out and taint you. But it's worth a few bucks to be his whore."  
  
"Fuck you. You're just bitter because your brother succeeded and you didn't!"  
  
There's a loud slam on the other side followed by dead air. Richie throws the phone on the table, now certain he is going to pursue this, if only to prove one Andy Murray wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

Richie has this feeling that he's being watched. It's in the back of his mind at first but it nags at him as his shift goes along. There's a customer in the corner that is the cause of this itch.  
  
Maybe he can convince Tatiana to walk out with him. She's the attractive waitress they just hired that has gotten offers from practically every other guy here so he should join the club. Even though his real reason is wondering what the guy in the corner wants with him, it would be better to just be one of the other creeps. She has yelled at Jeremy and threatened to smack Nicolas but she doesn't seem to mind Arnaud, the guy in charge of this shift.  
  
He wonders why Arnaud hasn't tried to chase the guy. Sure, he appears to be rich and powerful, but he's been sitting on that same cup of coffee. Plus, it isn't as if rich and powerful people usually frequent this place. Certainly not alone. Then again, Arnaud is the one waiting that table, so he must know something.  
  
After an hour passes, Richie is forced to walk that way. The guy tells him as he passes, "Take your break now and join me at this table."  
  
Richie says over his shoulder, "Can't fraternize with the patrons while on duty."  
  
"Your boss already knows about it. He said it was okay."  
  
Richie stops and turns Arnaud's way and he's practically giving a thumbs-up he's so giddy. So Richie finishes with his last two tables, then heads toward the table.  
  
"Hello, Richard," he says, the accent now clearer and catching Richie offguard. He has heard the voice before.  
  
"Do I know you?"  
  
"We spoke on the phone last week." He holds out a business card for Richie, who is wide-eyed upon realizing who this is.  
  
"Mr. Safin. This is a surprise."  
  
"I wanted to see you in action so I found out where you were working. Nice work."  
  
"Er, thanks?" Richie is unsure what this has to do with the reason he called the man before.  
  
"You seem confused. I understand. Here's the story. I have a Christmas party in two weeks and I would like you to wait my guests. This is actually connected to modeling, as there are very important people going to be there and I'm trying to figure out where to start with you."  
  
"You're throwing a Christmas party in November?"  
  
"Well, yes. Mainly because of my special guest. Roger Federer is coming to the States first, then a trip to Switzerland. Do you know who that is?"  
  
Although Richie figures out quickly enough that "special guest" is code for secret boyfriend, he's more surprised by the name. " _Roger Federer?_ Wow, he's only the best tennis player in the world."  
  
Marat admits, "Yeah, should figure the guy with the tennis player girlfriend would know that. Though you'd be surprised how many blank looks I get when I say the name. Or they know the name but ask me if that's the guy Anna Wintour fawns over." He chuckles but it's not particularly humorous, and he mutters, "She loves rubbing that in my face.  
  
Richie says, “He should be more famous but I’ve noticed tennis isn’t quite the same in this country.”  
  
Marat grins, then says, “I think Roger will like you. It’ll make him more comfortable to have Europeans around. I want you to work his area. He’s the VIP so deserves a special person, one who appreciates him.”  
  
Richie is fully aware of what Marat isn’t saying but chooses to ignore that. After all, it’s _Roger Federer_. “I would love to do that.”  
  
* * * * *  
  
“Earth to Mr. Andrew Murray,” waving a hand in front of his face. When Andy finally turns away, Gael exclaims, “Man, I know you hate these parties but you’re bringing antisocialism to a new level.”  
  
“Everyone’s so happy and bright.”  
  
“And drunk,” Gael adds. “Many probably high as well.”  
  
“That too.” Andy cringes as he sees Richie lean away from another advance from Mr. Safin.  
  
Gael sighs loudly, then says, “Sir, you know Richie won’t actually do anything.”  
  
“Richie is a tennis lover. Roger Federer paying attention can fuck with his brain. Even straight people can be swayed by the right person. Roger does seem to like him. He can probably speak French as well.”  
  
“Enough to capitivate him, at the very least. He’d be the right person for many.”  
  
Andy finally turns his attention away from that table to glare at his assistant. “Gael, I thought your fantasy was Nadal. The adversary.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I respect Roger as a player. He’s still a great and it’d be an honor if I got two words with him, much less what Richie is getting right now.” Gael takes another glance to see Richie and Roger laughing over something. Mr. Safin appears confused, so likely Roger _was_ speaking in French. “Lucky bastard.”  
  
“He’s a well-dressed, talented millionaire and…”  
  
“You’re adorably jealous,” Gael declares, knowing how to annoy yet kiss ass at the same time.  
  
“I am neither adorable nor jealous. I _am_ sickened he’s playing the tease…”  
  
“Teasing who?”  
  
Andy talks over Gael’s question. “And everyone, including you, finds him so ridiculously charming. I’m heading to the bathroom,” as a means to dodge the wide smile of someone who knows a secret.  
  
* * * * *  
  
“You are so easy,” Novak says when Andy enters the bathroom.  
  
“What?” Andy says coldly, not in the mood for his nonsense. He doesn’t know how the lower-rung model with the massive ego got invited but he really doesn’t need this to get rid of the headache. He pulls out two aspirin and gets water to wash them down.  
  
“Trying to be sneaky but I’m on to you. You’ve been watching that waiter and so you come to me.”  
  
Andy leans on the sink, looking down. He grits out, “I am not!”  
  
“Tell me he does nothing for you.”  
  
“He does nothing for me.”  
  
“So it’s me you’re looking for? I knew we weren’t over. Even through your fucking mind games.”  
  
“I’m not…”  
  
“Relax, Andy.” Novak stands behind Andy, arms wrapped around his waist. “I know how to handle you. The boy toy never could.”  
  
Andy pushes away from his touch, retreating to the wall to stare Novak down. “You are fucking warped. We _are_ over and I _told_ you why!”  
  
“No, _I_ told _you_ why. You refused to help my career.”  
  
“Er, no. One, I wasn’t going to photograph you because I don’t like mixing business and pleasure. I’m not even sure you’re the type to _be_ a model but you seem to have _somehow_ convinced yourself and that tipsy agent otherwise.” Novak scoffs at that remark. “Two, you admitted you had a crush on _my brother_!”  
  
“I don’t think so. One, you’re a selfish prick. Janko is also Serbian so naturally he understands what I need, something you couldn’t care less about. Two, I said that I wish you treated me the way Jamie does Jelena. Although yes, it also wouldn’t hurt if you’d make an attempt to look good for a change because you have the genetics but don’t utilize them.”  
  
Andy glares at him, fuming over the fact he actually _liked_ this guy at one point. “Jamie treats Jelena like a goddess. You already think of yourself as a divine being so why the fuck do you need confirmation from me?”  
  
Novak walks over slowly and tries to settle him down with a hug. “There, there, Andy. You’re so wound up. I can help.”  
  
“Let go of me.” Usually he could get away from Novak as he’s the stronger one. Maybe Novak has started to work out his body along with his mouth.  
  
“He’s going home with Mr. Safin and that rich Swiss guy.” Novak presses himself against Andy, who is stuck between him and the wall. He whispers, “He’s found someone better, isn’t that obvious?” He plays with the collar of Andy’s dress shirt. “You need to stop wearing black all the time. It washes you out.”  
  
Andy wishes Novak couldn’t still get to him. The words are rotten yet he misses, well he’s not sure what he misses but there was a time Novak wasn’t like this. He definitely shouldn’t be letting Novak touch him or kiss him but his struggles are doing no good. That he’s gotten into this situation is just making him feel sick.  
  
It sounds as if it’s far away when he hears a door open but the slam is definitely closer. Novak calls out, “Occupied,” as he decides he’s not going to stop just because there’s now a third person there. Novak quickly glances to see who’s there, then presses his body even closer to Andy and continues kissing him while working on undoing their pants.  
  
Richie looks from Andy’s ashen face and closed eyes to Novak’s fiery mug and just knows this isn’t some romantic encounter. Not as if Andy is romantic anyway but he seems terrified. Richie says, “The cops are checking around for a narcotics dealer so maybe now isn’t the best time for your rendezvous.”  
  
At the word “narcotics”, Novak immediately pulls away. “Shit, those guys are always around. I mean, I’m not into that but so many are… yeah, I don’t need an indecent act charge to add…” He quickly straightens up his clothes then walks out of the bathroom.  
  
Andy’s eyes are still shut but he knows the intruder is still standing there. He says, “I’m not on drugs, in possession of drugs, dealing drugs or doing anything indecent so the cops can’t do anything. Just stop gawking.”  
  
Richie’s voice is soft as he says, “There are no cops, Andy.”  
  
He opens his eyes to see the concern aimed his way. He never thought that Richie would be the one standing there and Andy realizes the implications of what just happened. It’s all too much to handle.  
  
“Please leave. I’m going to be sick,” then rushes into the stall before getting a reply. Richie opts to leave but he’s not even out the door when he hears the retching.  
  
Richie looks around for Gael but he catches Marat waving his way. He relents and gets back to the table.  
  
“There you are.”  
  
“Yeah, er, just a situation in the bathroom.”  
  
“Models hooking up?”  
  
Richie tries to figure if the other guy was a model. Tall enough, skinny enough and Andy had at least some interest. Yeah, probably a model. “Something like that.”  
  
Marat smiles wistfully. “Yeah, those were the days, so carefree. So many pretty young things.” Roger lets out a cough before Marat continues down this tangent. Marat turns and asks, “You’re not pretty?”  
  
“It was the ‘so many’ part that was my issue.”  
  
“Aw, I can fix that.” Marat glances at his watch. “I think I’ve made enough of an appearance here. Time to leave. Agree?”  
  
Roger nods then watches as Marat tells the necessary people they're leaving. He turns to Richie and says, “You don’t have to give in to what Marat has been implying all night. I’ve seen you and Alize hanging out on the court and you shouldn’t mess it up because of Marat’s carelessness with his power.”  
  
Richie is taken aback by Roger actually recognizing him all along. Okay, so maybe Marat told him that in advance, what with the second photo shoot as proof, but it’s still pretty nice for Roger to pay attention. “Alize moved on to a Spanish tennis player.”  
  
“Verdasco?”  
  
Richie shrugs. “I didn’t ask. She left me enough clues to get to that conclusion.”  
  
“Yeah, it would be bad no matter who it is.” Roger gets up from the chair, Richie idly realizing that they’re the same height, as he grabs his jacket. He spots Marat gesturing for them to leave and Richie sees a playful smile gracing Roger’s face before the tennis player asks, “Can you do me a favor?”  
  
“Anything you need. Well, other than the hotel room proposal Marat made earlier.”  
  
Roger chuckles. “Actually, I didn’t want that one either but I do want to stir Marat up a little so it makes my night more enjoyable. Do you mind?”  
  
Richie gives a slight shake of the head, happening to see Andy exit the bathroom out of the corner of his eye. That’s the direction he’s looking when Roger places his hand on Richie’s cheek, turning his face back Roger’s way for a quick kiss on the lips.  
  
Richie’s mouth is hanging open as he watches Roger give a wave his way then follow Marat out. When they are gone, he turns back to the bathroom door. Nobody is there but the door is closing and Richie is sure Andy looks worse than before.  
  
This time, he’s not leaving Andy alone.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Andy wakes up in his bed to a pounding headache and an emptied stomach. He doesn’t want to get out of bed but knows he must as he’s got company. Richie had insisted on staying here last night and is probably still on the couch in the studio.  
  
Andy supposes Richie had a point. After all, he was too weak to deal with anything at the party and _did_ need help getting home.  
  
Then again, why didn’t Richie simply ask Gael? That was his job. Well, no, Gael’s job wasn’t to deal with his sick boss but it wasn’t Richie’s either and that was something he should have handed off.  
  
Andy shuffles around his bedroom, gingerly holding on, until he gets to the bathroom. He turns on the shower, quickly strips out of his sweats and jumps in. The hot water feels wonderful, washing away the grime from last night.  
  
Afterward, he returns to his bedroom and picks up the clothes set on the chair. Black jeans, black sweater, fuck Novak and his fashion advice.  
  
He looks in the mirror afterwards. Always hated looking at his reflection but especially now. Paler, sickened and tainted.  
  
“Are you okay?” Richie asks as he slowly approaches the entranceway.  
  
Andy shrugs. “I guess there was some rotten fish.”  
  
“Right. Was that guy… what was the story?”  
  
“Ex who hasn’t quite let it go. Even though it ended six months ago, he’s still lurking. Well, I can’t avoid him because his best friend is dating my brother but he thinks I want back in. Or something like that.”  
  
“How long were you two together?”  
  
“It was never serious, but on and off for two years.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Novak’s a good fuck. I don’t know.”  
  
“Novak is a jerk. He couldn’t even tell you were getting sick because he was too busy trying to get a quickie.”  
  
“Well, it’s what I can get when I’m not tricking someone.”  
  
Richie stares at Andy, shocked to hear him sound so deflated. “You don’t need to resort to games or lowering your standards to get someone.”  
  
“You just don’t understand.”  
  
“I understand that you sell yourself short. I don’t know the details about your past modeling career but I think those people have warped you.”  
  
Andy says in a threatening voice, “ _Do not_ open that door. I don’t want to waste my money on therapy.”  
  
“You looked pretty disgusted at what you saw in the mirror. There’s nothing wrong with you.” Richie drags Andy back to the mirror, standing behind him so he’s forced to look at the reflection.  
  
“I don’t want to model. Never did. Being in front of the camera always makes me uncomfortable.” Andy is uncomfortable now just dealing with Richie watching him. “Jamie loves the attention. I hate it. I’d be asking the photographer questions about his work as a distraction, which is how I got interested in the business.”  
  
“So why settle for someone like Novak?”  
  
“This is the world I know. I can’t help that I like models and they don’t really care for photographers. So, yeah, Novak is a catalog model, which is lower level. We can’t all catch the attention of elite tennis players.”  
  
“You can attract better than Novak, however. Just stop using your camera as a lure. I mean, you're good looking and you even have a nice body hidden under these baggy, dark clothes.” Richie grabs onto the hem of Andy’s shirt, lifting up then dropping it, his hand settling on Andy’s waist.  
  
Andy is watching Richie in the reflection. “Why aren’t you with Mr. Safin and Roger Federer?”  
  
Richie looks away from the mirror, not wanting to see those eyes when he answers, “I would never do that.”  
  
“You’re a pretty good tease.” Andy means in reference to Marat but Richie is having a similar effect on him right now; Richie’s fingers are making small circles along Andy’s hipbone.  
  
“Look, I don’t want to irritate Mr. Safin as I _am_ determined to make this modeling thing work. I should be able to get _something_ out of Alize and these photo shoots since _she_ utilized it to get a Spanish tennis player.”  
  
Andy looks down, muttering, “Sorry if I messed everything up.”  
  
“You really shouldn’t be. She was the adventurous one and would push me to follow her. I don’t mean the tour stops, just… yeah, that photo shoot is something she would do. She really liked your vision but I just couldn't tell her I never wanted to deal with you again."  
  
“Yet here you are now, voluntarily back in my apartment when you could have just left me in that restroom or had Gael find me.”  
  
“Yeah,” Richie replies, not sure what to make of that either.  
  
Andy really doesn’t know why Richie is so close to him but is better off not mentioning that. So instead, he jokes. “Gael has a video phone and I’m sure he’s going to replay that kiss until I just want to smash the damn thing even though I got him that as a birthday gift. You’d better hope there was no poor schmuck at the party who would sell the footage because, dude, Alize Cornet and Roger Federer are on completely different levels of fame.”  
  
* * * * *  
  
Andy only wants to have a coffee. Against his better judgment, he frequents the place that Richie works. Though he's not sure why he wanted to come here, he is mildly relieved that Richie isn’t actually working on this particular day.  
  
That relief is short-lived, for as Arnaud is leading him to a table, someone calls out his name. It is Jamie, who is sitting with his girlfriend Jelena and her tagalong Novak. Andy never told Jamie the details about the breakup, knowing it could cause damage among the trio. Pity, because Novak had spilled his version of the details, making it sound as if it’s _Andy’s_ judgment that’s impaired.  
  
Jamie waves him over to join them. They’re in a booth against the window. Of course, the empty seat is next to Novak, who stands up to let Andy in the window seat. They must have just arrived as well; menus are still in front of them.  
  
Jamie says, “I heard you were feeling under the weather at the Christmas party.”  
  
“How do you know that?”  
  
He points to Novak, who answers, “Yeah, Gael told me you left early. Are you feeling better?”  
  
Andy nods but he really doesn’t want his consolation. Novak didn’t care then and Andy doubts he really cares now.  
  
Jelena says, “I haven’t seen you in a while. Been hiding out?”  
  
When Jamie suggests activities that involve his girlfriend, Andy finds an excuse because the two together are so sickeningly sweet. Instead, he says, “I guess our paths haven’t crossed lately.”  
  
Jelena gives him a wide smile and Andy wishes, not for the first time, she could be just a little imperfect. Well, beyond the fact that she has terrible taste in friends.  
  
They place their orders and, while Jamie and Jelena are chatting about their day, Novak whispers, “I’m sorry about that night. I think I was slipped something in my drink. I want to make it up to you.”  
  
“We’re over.” Andy turns to the window, wanting to escape.  
  
“I don’t believe you.” Novak’s hand rests on Andy’s thigh. Andy quickly moves away from his touch. “We can work it out if you would just stop shutting me out.” Novak moves closer. “Come on, Andy.” Hand back on thigh and moving slowly up. “Please, don’t push me away. You know this feels so good.”  
  
That part is the truth, even if Andy knows this isn’t who he wants doing this. “Fine.”  
  
Andy leans back in the booth as Novak whispers in his ear, “I want to get you off right here.”  
  
“You head to the bathroom now. I’ll be there in five minutes.”  
  
“No. Here.” Novak works down the zipper of Andy’s pants.  
  
“In front of Jelena and Jamie? Are you insane?”  
  
“I know you. I’ll head there, you’ll walk out of the restaurant, then Jamie will knock on the door and tell me that you chickened out.”  
  
“It’s not chickening out. That’s disgust.”  
  
Jamie and Jelena have stopped talking and are now focused on them. Jamie says, “No, Novak is right. You’re afraid to let anyone get close. Okay, so his methods aren’t the best but you don’t speak up.”  
  
Andy glares at Novak, barking out, “Get up."  
  
“Andy…”  
  
“Novak, get your ass up or else I’m climbing over you.” Andy zips up and gulps down the too-hot coffee, then glares at Jamie. “See? Speaking up.”  
  
“Do it,” Novak says in a threatening tone.   
  
Andy snatches up Jamie’s coffee and holds it over Novak. “Do you dare me? I just burned my tongue on this so I wouldn’t tempt.” At Jamie's warning look, Andy puts down the cup and tries to get past Novak, who grabs onto Andy’s waist before Andy breaks free of the booth.  
  
Jamie calls out, "Andy, stop."  
  
Andy can't face his perfect brother and his perfect girlfriend and their two-faced friend. That Andy knows he deserves a guy like Novak after what he's done to everyone else.  
  
The fact that he was so close to giving Novak what he wants tells him one thing: He _really_ needs to get laid.


	7. Chapter 7

Andy is in the club with Gael and feels completely awkward with the situation.  When he told Gael he needed to get laid, at first Gael was thrilled.  But when Gael realized that also meant Andy would need help to look good in a club, well that's not Gael's thing.  After all, Gael's wardrobe consists of suits and basketball gear - no in-between.  However, as an assistant, Gael _did_ know the right person to contact to solve the problem.  
  
That would be Feliciano, self-described fashion maven.  He stays up with the latest trends, spending hundreds on stuff that, to Andy, looks cheap and ordinary.  Andy was relieved that Feliciano wasn't actually a fashion designer, or else he'd have a headache trying to deal with his vision.  
  
"You look great," Gael keeps assuring.  In the end, there's a compromise.  Andy would wear the sparkly, silvery sheer mess of a shirt as long as Feliciano kept his hands away from the hair dye.  Andy wouldn't admit it out loud but the jeans, dark blue and faded in spots, weren't _too_ bad even if he'd never spend several hundred on them as Feliciano did.   
  
Andy has never tried to get a guy who had no business trying to get into modeling, the best description of the guys in the club this particular night.  It's not that there were ugly guys, just none that he had any interest in.  
  
He does make an attempt at this type.  Gael and Andy dance together in hopes of drawing attention.  Problem is, they're all into the unavailable and not-trying Gael.  Gael goes along with it because there's no good way to explain a) he's not available b) his dance partner _is_ available and c) the dance partner is his boss, but not in a pimp sort of way.   
  
Andy hears one guy say to Gael that he "could do so much better than some pale skinny kid".  That one, Gael tells that Andy _is_ his boyfriend and he's quite insulted.  Andy may give Gael a reprive on breaking that video phone after all, even if he's also aware that Gael's _actual_ boyfriend Gilles also would fit that description.  
  
The one serious attempt takes place after Andy asks Gael for a break from the dance floor because his feet were getting tired.  A shorter Spanish guy has been watching them from a distance for some time.  Not bad to look at, not overly interested in fashion, not an egotistical loudmouth.  Mesmerizing eyes framed by long brown hair.  Among the choices in this club, definitely not a bad one.  So Andy makes it a point to walk past him when making the getaway to the bar.  
  
Andy sits at the counter and the empty seat is soon filled as the guy tries to casually make his order - two Acapulcos.  Andy is aware the guy ordered this just so he'll be asked what is in that drink, so then he can slide the second drink over as a demonstration.  Conversation would ensue.  
  
He decides to go along with it since this _was_ the first real chance he's had tonight that could lead to sex.  Andy tries not to sound too bored when he asks, "What's in an Acapulco?"  
  
Sure enough, the guy slides the second drink over, claiming, "I guess my friend will get his own."  Spanish accent as well.  So far the only problem was the height.  
  
"Right."  Andy took a sip.  Sort of like a piña colada with a touch of bitter, masking the amount of alcohol quite well.  "Not bad."  
  
"I know my drinks.  David."  
  
"Andy.  So will your friend mind if you get distracted?"  
  
David looks back into the crowd, Andy following his gaze.  Apparently, he wasn't making up the friend after all, as there's a blond muscular guy heading their way.  Still, David isn't deterred.  "He'll have to deal with it."  
  
"Really?  He doesn't seem too thrilled."  
  
David leans in closer so that he appears to be whispering in Andy's ear.  "He's cheated on me in the past so he'll just have to suffer.  He thinks he's the only one who can have action on the side.  I'll show him."  
  
Andy asks, "So exactly how much are you trying to rile him up?"  As the guy gets closer, Andy realizes he's not as much of a physical threat as he thought.  
  
"Yeah, Ferru, how jealous am I supposed to be?"  He wraps a possessive arm around David's waist.  
  
David pushes him away.  "Oh no you don't.  You make all these visits to that Russian's apartment.  Yet I can't give a guy a drink?"  
  
"It's all about spiting me now?  Trust me, there is nothing happening with him.  Marat only has eyes for that tennis player."  
  
Andy mutters a thank you to David and takes the drink with him, leaving them fighting.  If these people have some connection to Marat Safin - and he doubts there are many Marats involved with tennis players - then Andy really wants nothing to do with them.  That's just asking for trouble.  
  
He is so thankful that Gael is just leaving the dance floor so it's not difficult to drag him to a just-vacant table in the back.  Gael gives him a look indicating that he thinks his boss is losing his mind but is willing to go along for the ride.  When they get to the table, Gael sniffs the drink, muttering under his breath, before getting a beer for himself.

 

* * * * *

  
By the end of the night, Andy has learned two things: this place makes very good mixed drinks and he's going to be alone tonight.  
  
"He isn't even gay and he gets kissed by fucking Roger Federer!"  
  
Gael grins, knowing who Andy is talking about and the real cause of this night out.  "Yeah, it was pretty hot how Roger surprised him like that."  
  
" _He's_ just hot.  Richie can do it so effortlessly.  He can fool you but doesn't even _know_ he's doing it.  He wants to be mean but his touches are so tender.  He's a great kisser but it was just a distraction."  
  
"Hold on.  When did you find all that out?"  
  
"Does it matter?"  
  
"Does he know?"  
  
Andy tries to figure out what Richie is supposed to know but he's too drunk to figure it out.  "About?"  
  
"I now refuse to believe this guy is 100% straight."  
  
Andy shrugs.  "It doesn't matter any more.  If the Roger kiss snapped _anything_ awake, it would mean he can get any hot guy he wants.  He's then way out of my league."  
  
It's at that point that Gael remembers something strange Andy said when he first started as his assistant - don't ever let him get drunk.  Since they've been to so many functions and Andy has been fine with one or two drinks, Gael put it out of mind.  But now he knows why: Andy says too much when he's drunk.  
  
"Come on, boss.  Let's get out of here."  
  
"You're taking me home?"  
  
"You'll like where we're going."

* * * * * 

  
"Gael?  What are you doing here at nearly 2 in the morning?"  
  
"I'm dropping this off for you," Gael dragging Andy into Richie's apartment.  
  
Richie stands there watching them head to his pulled-out couch.  Gael seems quite weary and Andy is quite drunk.  "Why here?  He has a home.  You have a home."  
  
"One, you're closer to the club.  Very important when dragging a body.  Two, he's giving me a headache.  When he starts talking, he don't stop.  Especially when it's stuff about you I'd rather not know.  Good night," leaving before Richie can complain.  
  
The door is barely closed when Andy starts, "Did you say those things so I'd get over what happened at the Christmas party or because you truly meant them?"  
  
"Andy..."  
  
"Stupid question.  Of course it was the former since you couldn't've _wanted_ to say I was attractive to you in any way.  I _do_ get lucky sometimes through photo shoots.  Damn lucky, because those gorgeous guys wouldn't even think twice about me if I couldn't open doors for them.  That's Novak; he kept believing I'd do that, I told him I wouldn't because he was important to me, which he really was at one point, and he gets revenge by manhandling me at your job."  
  
"Why were you at my job?"  
  
"Curiosity.  So if you wonder why I'd try to lure prospective models and taunt them that's fucking why - because they deserve it.  Except you - you are a good guy who deserves better than people who turn sex into sideshows."  
  
"You need to relax."  
  
Andy says plainly, "I don't think I can do that.  You don't need Alize.  I know I'm no good either but she doesn't realize how lucky she was.  So I guess I'm staying here?'  
  
Richie nods, too stunned by that admission to talk him out of it.  Andy stretches out on the pullout, though giving Richie enough room to join him.  
  
He tells himself it's stubbornness that lands him back in the bed, as opposed to the wooden chair that's the only other furniture in the apartment.  So if Richie happens to turn in his sleep and his arm ends up wrapping around Andy's waist, well that's what Andy gets for falling asleep there.


	8. Chapter 8

When Richie wakes up the next morning, he's still surprised by Andy's presence in his apartment.  It seems like a bizarre dream but no, it's his bizarre reality.  Richie really is sharing his bed with the guy who has turned his life upside down.   
  
There were things Richie was fairly certain about before he made the trip to the states to watch Alize at the US Open.  He was sure he was happy to be invited into the tennis world, even though a shoulder operation knocked out his own dreams.  He was sure having an attractive soon-to-be-famous girlfriend who lusted after him was the ideal.  He enjoyed going along for the ride and all the craziness that entailed.  
  
How all that changed, in some way, because of a male, skinny, caustic Scottish photographer who hated the spotlight Richie still doesn't understand.  Everything would be easier if Andy would stop appearing in his life.   
  
And yet... Richie doesn't mind admiring Andy right now, laid out on his bed.  The hair is even more of a mess than usual.  The weird-looking shirt clearly isn't from Andy's closet; it's not his style and doesn't fit right but looks quite nice wrinkled and riding up.   He kind of hopes the tight dark jeans are Andy's; if not, he should definitely keep them.  Richie wishes he had a camera here even though he know it's a photo Andy would not appreciate, even if Richie claimed it was about the composition.  
  
Andy is beginning to wake up so Richie heads for the coffeemaker, at least having something to do to distract himself.  The maker has just started when Andy calls out from the bed, "I'm sorry Gael brought me here to torture you."  
  
"Don't worry about it.  I'd say he was about ready to strangle you so consider _yourself_ fortunate."  
  
Andy makes his way to the table.  "Yeah, guess he now knows I meant it when I said I shouldn't get drunk.  That's why I only have one or two drinks at parties.  Man, it's been a _long_ time since I did that."  
  
"Coffee and bagels sound good."  
  
"Sure."  
  
As Richie is slicing the bagels and waiting for the coffee, pieces of the story are coming together.  The shirt _isn't_ Andy's.  The jeans may not be either.  There's glitter on the jeans that doesn't seem to have come from the shirt.  Andy doesn't drink, definitely wasn't drunk at the Christmas party, supporting the tainted food theory.  Richie may be wrong but he doesn't believe that Andy is a recovering alcoholic, as Gael didn't seem _that_ concerned.  
  
"Did you _want_  to get drunk last night?"  Richie turns around with the plate of bagels and that's when he notices that Andy can't seem to face him.  He's tugging on the sleeve of the shirt, it making him as edgy as the question.  "Andy?"  
  
Andy shrugs.  "It's been a crazy time."  
  
Richie wants to comfort Andy, tell him it will be okay, even if he's not sure exactly what's eating at him.  But he's not sure he should do that because it would mean so much more.  Instead, he says, "Did it help?"  
  
Another shrug, then Andy gets up to fill the mugs with coffee.  Richie watches him do this, then shakes his head and drops the plate of bagels on the table.  
  
"Why do you do that?" Andy says suddenly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's...no, that you do that..." shaking his head.  "It's so silly.  I could say everything last night and now I can barely form a sentence."  
  
"You got that last one out.  Beginning to end."  
  
"Right, but that's not..."  Andy takes a deep breath.  "Okay, here it goes.  In the midst of all those words I spewed last night, there is something that requires an answer.  Did you mean what you said when we were at the mirror or was that your way of saying I should forget about Novak?"  
  
Now Richie's the uneasy one.  Although he couldn't forget what Andy said last night, he didn't think Andy would remember much less want to revisit it.  "When it started, it was about Novak.  By the end, it... wasn't."  Richie leans against the counter, staring at his feet.  "I don't know what's going on.  That first shoot... yes, I was annoyed and embarrassed, of course, but even then, I... there's been something else.  I could try to explain better what's happened since but, well, I'm drawn to you."  
  
Richie doesn't notice that Andy has moved close until he jolts from feeling a hand on his shoulder.  He looks up to see Andy grinning at him, trying not to be excited about finally being told a secret.  "Do you realize that, considering how _I'm_ the manipulator, _you're_ the one who looks for ways to watch me or touch me?  I mean, cuddling in bed?  I'd never _think_ to do that."  
  
Richie feels embarrassed, never considering that Andy would catch him doing that.  "Andy, that is _not_ how it happened..."  
  
"Stop me."  Andy keeps the one hand on his shoulder and wraps the other around Richie's waist.  Their mouths meet while Richie is still protesting so it takes a few seconds for his brain to register what's happening.  Memories from their first kiss resurface; it's been lingering in the back of his mind since that fateful day.  He doesn't want it to stop this time, so just as Andy is about to give up, Richie begins slowly kissing him back.  
  
It lasts about a minute before the phone rudely interrupts the moment.  Richie doesn't want to answer but it's too annoying to ignore.  He gently pushes Andy back enough so he can slip past and grab the phone.  "Hello?"  
  
"Bon jour, mon cher."  Richie rolls his eyes; he should have figured it was Gael.   "How's my boss doing?  Driving you crazy with his hangover?"  
  
Andy has his arms crossed and there's a hint of a pout, clearly irritated by the call.  Richie mouths, "It's your fault," before saying to Gael, "Yeah, you could say he's driving me crazy."  
  
Gael says, "Why am I not surprised?  Okay, well, just let him know that he has a meeting with Mr. Safin this afternoon.  The schedule is clear before that."  
  
Richie starts to say, "Mr. Safin..."  
  
Andy replies, "Three o'clock.  Got it."  
  
Richie says to Gael, "He says he got it."  
  
Gael laughs.  "Sometimes I think he keeps me on for entertainment value only.  His memory is better than mine.  There's a presentation later..."  
  
While Gael is talking, Andy drags a chair over so he's sitting directly in front of Richie, looking up.  Richie covers the phone to whisper, "What are you doing?"  
  
"Waiting for your oh-so-engaging conversation to end.  I mean, unless Gilles is talking dirty in the background, there's no reason to still have Gael on the line."  
  
Apparently, Richie didn't do a good enough job blocking Andy's voice from the phone.  Gael replies, "I guess that means I won't let him listen in next time."  
  
Richie repeats what Gael said.  Andy gestures to hand him the phone, which he does.  Andy says, "Too bad.  I _might_ have returned that favor.  I was considering giving Richie a blow job while you were reading off my itinerary."  Richie wonders if that was in fact Andy's reason for moving the chair over in the first place; Andy is at the right level.  He can't help but blush at this realization.  
  
Gael lets out a hoot.  "Oh wow, boss.  I can't believe you're still teasing that poor boy."  
  
Andy leers upward, touching the back of Richie's knee.  "Teasing.  Yeah."  
  
Richie's voice sounds squeaky when he says, "He'll call you back later," takes the phone from Andy's hand and disconnects the call.  
  
Andy lets go and backs away to a safer distance.  Richie finds the nearest piece of mail and whacks Andy with it.  "I can't _believe_ you."  
  
"Come on.  I'm not an innocent little pup, like you."  
  
"You need to get that image out of your head."  Richie yanks onto the collar of Andy's shirt, jolting him out of the chair.  "You may have an overactive imagination and spout all sorts of sexual wants but I've probably actually _done_ more than you.  That's what happens when you have steady relationships."  
  
"With women," Andy mutters.  
  
"Yes, with women.  The idea of having sex with a guy might be new to me but I definitely have had my own adventures."  Richie smiles upon realizing that Andy actually appears to be surprised by that information.  He leans down to brush a light kiss over Andy's nose, barely a whisper when he says, "We both have work to do."


	9. Chapter 9

Andy is standing outside the cafe where Richie works. This was Richie's version of a date - in the sense that the guy was near broke and the wait staff was doing him a favor. Andy told him they probably all agreed because they wanted the gossip.   
  
Reluctantly, Andy walks in, to be immediately greeted by his date, who is apologetic. "I am sorry about this. I have a table that simply won't leave so I'm waiting for them to finish."   
  
"Don't worry about it. If you were such a cheap date, we could have just gone to your apartment."   
  
Richie frowns, then leads Andy to a table, to the protests of those waiting. "No, that's what happens if you _survive_ this date."   
  
Andy sits down then calls out to Richie's retreating form, "Is that a challenge? Are you planning to have me run an obstacle course?"   
  
Richie is about to say "of course not" but he notices who just walked in and mutters under his breath. Unfortunately for him, Arnaud has noticed this as well, calling out, "Richie, your modeling crew is here." Arnaud then walks over to the just-entering Novak and Jamie and gushes over both of them. Neither one understands French but Richie wishes he didn't right now either because the sucking up is nauseating.   
  
"Mod-" Novak starts then spots Richie trying to slip away. "Oh, hey, the waiter guy who worked up Roger Federer." He gestures to Jamie. "This is the guy I was telling you about. Should have figured you'd moonlight to get in Mr. Safin's good graces."   
  
Jamie is looking at Richie, trying to figure out why he looks familiar. Well, familiar beyond the fact that the guy brings his girlfriend to this place at least once a week. "You model?"   
  
Richie nods. "Well, I'm just starting. Nowhere near your level. Magazine ads, that's quite exciting."   
  
Jamie says cautiously, "Yeah, it is." He's about to ask more but spots Andy in a corner booth. "Wow, this is a surprise. It looks like he's waiting for a date." He turns to Novak, "Andy's finally moving on, I guess."   
  
Novak narrows his eyes. "Yeah, I'm quite curious about this one." He walks past them to Andy's booth. "Hello, babe."   
  
Both Murrays are surprised by this. Jamie chases him down, reprimanding, "Leave him alone. Obviously, he has a date or, at least, plans." He gets out a quick, "Sorry, Andy."   
  
Novak doesn't appear the least bit sorry. "So tell me. Is this one a model as well? Did you take photographs and promise a career for him?"   
  
"I never took your picture or promised you a career," Andy says stoically, not wanting to reveal the truth of the question. Novak sits across from Andy in the booth.   
  
Richie is finishing with his last table but able to hear what's being said. He knows Andy must be pissed off, since while they did meet that way, it wasn't quite like that. But since Novak doesn't seem to know that connection, no reason to tell him.   
  
"No, but you did to Ernie. Poor young impressionable Ernie. You thought I wouldn't find out you did that. While we were together, no less. You just happened to luck out and his family is loaded so he can waste years here. I figure that you fucking owe me." Jamie lets out a sigh and slides in next to Novak.   
  
"When you say 'when we were together,' do you mean when you and I were together or when you and Ernie were together? Then again, there was overlap. It's better to admit to your glorious high-profile friends that you're shagging a photographer than a lowly errand boy. Or both at the same time, it turned out."   
  
Novak shakes his head. "No, you're not going to try to blame me for that."   
  
"You _are_ to blame."   
  
" _I_ gave you the idea to tell a prospective model to play up that he looks underage and that Gael needs to corrupt him with alcohol? Fuck you."   
  
Jamie looks around for Richie, muttering, "Gael? Modeling? He's..."   
  
Andy counters, " _I_ gave you the idea to use my apartment as a way to lure rentboys? I never cheated on you, Novak, so don't play innocent here." But when Andy notices Jamie's reaction and realizes what he's about to figure out, any fight in him regarding Novak is gone.   
  
Novak snaps back, "Okay, now tell Jamie what you did to Alex and see if playing the victim card works." Since he's unaware of what has distracted Jamie, he knew that saying the former roommate's name would lure him back in.   
  
Andy grits out, “You don’t know everything. If you went by what Alex told you, of course.”   
  
When Jamie finds Richie, he exclaims, “He’s the guy in those photos! The guy I told you to recommend to your boss.”   
  
Novak’s eyes widen and Andy slumps in his seat. He knows he’s in deep trouble. Andy doesn’t really care what Novak thinks but Jamie hearing all of this is a different story.   
  
Novak says, “So when you say he ‘modeled’ for you, just how much fun did you get out of it?”   
  
Richie is leading the guests at that last table away, trying not to let the guests set him react to what he's hearing. As soon as they’re out of sight, he storms over to the table. “Exactly what business is it of yours? Are you wishing that you hadn’t been such a jerk before?”   
  
Andy is startled by Richie being there, actually finding it nice that he’s being defended. Little consolation given that Novak is still talking. “Funny. I was thinking that I’m trying to defend you from predators such as him. Nothing jerk-like about it.”   
  
Andy prides himself on deception, not lies. Usually, it comes off so easily. But right now, as he sees his older brother staring at him with hopeful eyes, he can't take it. He can't defend himself, especially since Novak is basically telling the truth, just spinning it so it sounds worse.   
  
Finally, Jamie says, "You didn't do that. Right?"   
  
Novak interjects, "Oh he is perfect at getting prospective models to bend to his whim."   
  
"No, I'm not," Andy says weakly.   
  
"What happened with Alex then?" Jamie asks, innocently thinking Andy was answering his question instead of Novak's comment.   
  
Novak again answers for Andy. "Oh, you don't know? This is so precious. So you recommended Alex to get Andy for initial headshots, right? Alex was totally in love with you, Jamie, and did the favor because you thought he had what it takes."   
  
This was something that they've already discussed. It was given as the reason Alex moved out. "I knew that, though I wish I didn't."   
  
"Well, to Alex, Andy is a younger and gay version of you. He figured he'd have a chance at his fantasies with you. Andy decided to initially play along, talking Alex through a possible liaison..."   
  
Andy blasts, "Is that a story _you_ use to jerk off? Alex fucking deserved what he got!"   
  
Jamie says quietly, "So you _did_ use your position as a photographer to get back at guys?"   
  
Andy can hear the disappointment in his brother's voice and it really hurts, even if Jamie has a point. He really doesn't want to make a scene here but he can feel the emotions of the moment try to overtake him. "He wanted me to be you. Do you realize how many people wish I was you?" He wishes his voice didn't sound so pitiful right now. "Maybe I just got sick of being used by everyone and decided on payback." He knows Richie is still standing there even if he hasn't said a word. "It was wrong. _I_ was wrong. I did that to Richie and I've stopped and we were trying to date but it doesn't change anything." Andy gets up from his seat and rushes out.   
  
After Andy leaves, the table is silent. Novak makes the mistake of breaking the silence by turning to Richie and saying, "Look, kid. I'm sorry you had to find out the truth this way..."   
  
Jamie snaps, "Just shut up and walk out of here before I deck you." He shoots out of his seat so Novak can leave.   
  
Novak's voice sounds screechy as he replies, "What? Jamie, he's the one..."   
  
"I know my brother and, while I may not be certain what's the truth, I can tell you've repeatedly hurt him. Just stay away from me, especially if you value your friendship with Jelena."   
  
Novak is stunned. He has never seen Jamie so angry. Andy, yes, that's common occurrence especially towards himself, but never Jamie. He quietly slides out of the booth and exits.   
  
Jamie closes his eyes and sits back in the booth, collecting his thoughts before chasing Andy down. He has forgotten there was anyone else still there until Richie says, "I already knew most of it." He slides in where Andy was sitting.   
  
Jamie tries to ask, "Did he..."   
  
"It was probably all true. He didn't want to disappoint you."   
  
"He said you two were dating. So if you knew that he used you, why would you do that?"   
  
"I never said it wasn't a screwed-up introduction. When I first found out, I wanted nothing to do with him. The thing is, the more I learned, the more I wanted to be there. Have him realize he doesn't need to seek guys like," pointing to where Novak had been sitting. "But, yeah, the details of our first meeting are not exactly a good tale for others."   
  
Jamie shuts his eyes. "I really was hoping you'd say Novak was lying. I mean, Novak is... was... a friend and all but... I don't know how I feel about Andy abusing his job like that..."   
  
“I’d say there’s a lot you two need to discuss. Though based on Andy’s reaction when Alex’s name came up, he probably was what caused Andy to go down this path in the first place.”   
  
“What are you going to do?”   
  
Richie had to admit he had no clue either. “Give him time.”   
  
“Don’t give him too much time.” Jamie gives Richie a quick smile. “He needs to realize he’s lucky you’re one of the good guys.”


	10. Chapter 10

"Go away, Gael," Andy yells at the insistent pounding at the door.  
  
"No fair. I tell you all the details regarding me and Gilles. The _very least_ you could do is tell me if there's a second date with Pretty Richie. You know I have the key and I'm not afraid to use it. Well, unless you're naked, in which case warn me now."  
  
Reluctantly, Andy opens the door then returns to his position on the couch, bag of potato chips next to him and a car chase movie on television.  
  
Gael enters, turning behind him before shutting the door. "What's up, man? You haven't been at the office all week. I was hoping you and Richie were having an extended weekend."  
  
"Gael, I am finished."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Jamie knows. I'm just waiting for him to tell our mum."  
  
"What do you... oh shit, you mean..."  
  
"Novak got mad when he found out about Richie and told Jamie his version of everything. I'm no drama queen so I mean it when I say I'm...no, actually we're... fucked."  
  
"Sir, you don't know everything. You only _think_ you do. Let me give you your messages, now that they make some sense."  
  
Andy rolls his eyes and slumps down on the couch, letting Gael do what he's being paid to do.  
  
"One from Jamie at Monday 9:03 am. Very eager that one. I guess he realized by this point that you were ignoring or deleting messages from your home line. That one was just to call back when you get the chance. Jamie at 11:42am. Inviting you to dinner on Friday night. Just the two of you. Need to talk.  
  
"Jamie, 5:30pm. You should talk to Richie, who apparently has been similarly getting ignored. I thought you were just being a fuck-up or following The Rules or some shit but if Jamie's asking you, there had to be a larger..." Andy motions for Gael to get on with the messages. "Right, boss. So Mr. Safin comes by this morning. He wants a meeting with you at 2 tomorrow regarding a new cologne line. He's a manipulative bastard so I imagine he's at least going to stay with you on the payroll, even if your mom makes noise. Getting models may be a different story but you don't want my opinion, just the messages. Got it. Novak, Tuesday, noon sharp. Asking if you or Jamie badmouthed him to Jelena because she's not taking his calls.  
  
"Richie, Tuesday, 2:20pm. Actually left for me, not you, wanting to know if he can borrow my key to your apartment." Looking up, Gael adds, "I told him no since you said, quote, only if you were on your deathbed, unquote. Which maybe you _are,_ underneath those potato chips but at the time, I doubted it."  
  
Another voice chirps, "So I decided to tag along instead."  
  
Andy jerks his head around. "Richie?"  
  
Gael smiles broadly. "Delivery made. Have a lovely night, boys. Remember, Safin meeting tomorrow at 2 so look sharp." He looks around Andy's apartment, then adds, "You can be such a slob sometimes," then leaves.  
  
When the door is safely shut, Andy turns his attention back to the television but asks, "You've been chatting with my associates?"  
  
Richie shrugs then sits down in an empty spot next to Andy.  
  
Andy tries not to let on he's following every move. When Richie looks his way, Andy focuses back on the screen, continuing, "Yet you're still here?"  
  
"I may not have known the details prior but Novak's stories were what I was expecting. That there was a triggering incident, like with Alex, and there were delusional models involved."  
  
"Yeah, Alex was the trigger." Andy curls up on the couch as he struggles to find the words. Richie gives him time to sort it out, realizing Andy has probably never told anyone before. His voice is soft and faraway when he finally starts. "I mean, I was used to others not taking my work seriously but he really pushed it by directly using me because he couldn't get Jamie. When I tried to say I wasn't interested in him, he... literally had me against the wall, his voice threatening as he towered over me and I feared what he'd do next. When I started spouting some garbage about Alex wishing Jamie was jerking off to his image instead of Jelena's, it got him hot and bothered and, most importantly, distracted. I shoved him back to the screen and kept going with some perverse story while taking pictures that, well, you can guess the rest." Andy turns away, sounding choked up when he concludes, "He left the states soon after."  
  
Richie gives Andy a chance to regain composure, as he doesn't seem the type to appreciate a hug at this point. He then remembers the scene with Novak in the bathroom, eerily similar to what Andy just described. "If Jamie had known that before, he would have taken your side. The guy may be a bit daft at times but once Jamie caught on, he was ready to kill Novak, if that makes you feel better."  
  
Andy turns toward Richie, his eyes brightening upon realizing Jamie had stood up for him. Though all he actually says is, "I guess that's what dinner will be about."  
  
"He hasn't told anyone else yet. I think he's waiting to hear your version. In the meantime, we never did have our date."  
  
"You're _seriously_ wanting that after everything that's happened?" If Andy had thought Richie was sensible, he was right now disproving that idea.  
  
Richie nods. "As far as we're concerned, nothing has changed."  
  
Andy turns back away, not believing that for a second. "I wasn't feeling so guilty before."  
  
Richie desperately wants him to stop feeling that way. Andy has felt down long enough. Then he gets an idea. "So you would feel better if you were punished?"  
  
"Yeah, er wait. Is your version of punishment similar to your version of revenge?"  
  
A sly smile graces Richie's face, liking that Andy's mind went in that direction even while in this mood. "Possibly."  
  
"Then no."  
  
Richie has had enough of this game. He grabs Andy's hand, yanks him off the couch and drags him to the mirror in his bedroom.  
  
Andy exclaims as he stumbles trying to keep up, "What are you doing?"  
  
"Okay, so while I _could_ borrow your camera so you could see for yourself, I'm not you. I'm terrible with a camera. As an alternative, the mirror." Richie stands behind Andy, trying to position him at the mirror despite Andy not wanting to look up.  
  
"This is dumb."  
  
"You still won't look."  
  
"Because I'm wearing a ratty t-shirt and the jeans I used when painting this apartment." Andy crosses his arms over his chest, swaying from side to side as he knows Richie is watching his every move.  
  
"There's something wrong with that? You certainly didn't mind when I wore that at the second shoot." Looking down, Richie adds, "Or that I'm wearing it now. At least it's not black." Finally, Andy glares at Richie in the reflection, which is ignored. "Back to the punishment. Do you want to know why Alize suggested this outfit back then?"  
  
Andy doesn't answer. He knows it doesn't matter as Richie will just tell him anyway.  
  
"It was during the off-season and I was doing work at my parents' house. Possibly painting, I don't remember. All I know is that she would pop in. I was packing for the first leg of her touring and she threw in those jeans. Didn't think much of it until I finally wore them. That was when she admitted that she packed them because she had this fantasy of blowing me in the bathroom after I finished doing that outside work. I mean, you had no idea when you told that story about the spilled drink and the blow-dryer how close you were to the truth."  
  
That gets a chuckle from Andy. "So Alize chose that outfit because of the fantasy?"  
  
"Yeah. I agreed because I was hoping to make you as uncomfortable as possible." Richie rests his hands on Andy's waist. "Mission accomplished."  
  
Andy is beginning to relax a little into the touch but doesn't want to admit it. "Did you two, um, fulfill the fantasy later?"  
  
"Since we are still in punishment mode, yes. Wasn't the first time but definitely the last time as she left for the next tournament two days later."  
  
"What's _your_ fantasy?"  
  
Richie lets out a deep breath and says seriously, "I wish you could see what I see. To me, maybe that's not punishment but it is to you."  
  
"That doesn't answer the question."  
  
Richie slides his fingers under Andy's shirt and whispers in his ear, "Maybe not directly. But it's easier to show you than explain it."  
  
Andy shuts his eyes, savoring the warm breath. "Don't underestimate the sound of your voice. It's a built-in weapon for the French."  
  
"So if it was me saying the stuff _you_ say, you'd be down on your knees?"  
  
"Hey! That's my power!" Andy jokes. "Don't begrudge my one method. It's a secret attack."  
  
"Yeah, I noticed. Lose the shirt." Andy blinks, as if not sure he heard the change of subject. Richie pulls up the hem to show he said that. Andy relents and raises the rest of the way.  
  
"That's better. You're right, it was ugly. I like this look so much better. Now, if I was holding a camera, I would be trying to get you into the moment. You know..." Andy is back into petulant mode. Richie decides to use this to his advantage. "Okay, so you do remember the pouty thing from your teenage years. Very good." Richie wraps his arms around Andy, pulling him closer. "How's that?"  
  
Andy is trying to stay annoyed, especially at Richie's casual throw-in of his modeling days, but it is proving difficult. He focuses on the blond hair behind him. Disadvantage to being the taller one and standing in front. "I wish I could see you better."  
  
"Punishment, remember? Which _is_ a pity but," Richie goes back to whispering in Andy's ear, but also runs his hands down Andy's stomach until stopping at the waist of the jeans, "does that help?"  
  
"With seeing you? Yes. Not so much with trying to stay still."  
  
Richie gives Andy an inspection. "Hmm, not bad." He lets go, then moves around so he's leaning against the mirror, blocking Andy's view of the reflection. Richie shakes his head but he's having trouble keeping up with the game, if the lustful look in his eyes is any indication. "It must be difficult to stay still and not exhibit any effects of what is happening around you. It must have killed you that first day to have Gael be the one with his hands all over me instead of you." As a means of demonstration, Richie takes off his t-shirt and throws it at Andy, who catches it out of reflex, even though he's more focused on eyes on him.  
  
Andy tries to reply but it sounds raspy. "It didn't really matter at the time."  
  
"Oh you say that but I doubt it. I definitely think you're in denial." Richie slips off his sneakers as he says this. "Even now, you're trying to figure out what you can admit out loud. You must realize at this point that I ultimately don't care what you say because I just want your body over mine. My fantasy is for you to _do_ the stuff you _say_ , if you must know. But since I'm not sure you actually _will_ because no guy you've been with has allowed you that, I have to push you."  
  
"I don't understand what you me..." Andy's voice trails off as he notices Richie is not looking up as he undoes the button of his jeans.  
  
"You heard me. I want _you_ , Andy." Richie is playing with the tab of the zipper, grinning as he knows where Andy's eyes have shifted. "It would have been nice. Well, maybe _nice_ is the wrong word. Nothing nice can be involved when you are imagining seeing someone naked. Knowing that my fingers are so close to giving you what you've wanted to see. Realizing that this time there are no boxers shielding your view should the tab accidentally unlock." He hears a loud exhale then glances over at Andy, noticing his words are definitely working. "Maybe _now_ you realize that one."  
  
"I think you've managed to get your point across, Richie."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Yeah, punishment can be over." Andy strides over, then grabs Richie by the waist to pull him away from the mirror and get as close as possible when their mouths meet for a searing kiss. Andy walks backwards and has Richie following along as they head toward his bed. Andy has one knee on the bed as he guides Richie to lie on his back before falling on top of him.  
  
Richie has his hands on Andy's lower back as their mouths refuse to break contact. After the initial rush, Andy has slowed down, the kisses more meaningful as he enjoys the feel of the body writhing under him. He's tempted to get rid of the jeans but he does like the idea of torturing Richie just a little bit himself. So instead, he runs his finger along the zipper, satisfied with the twitching that results.  
  
When Richie catches on to the plan, he uses one hand to work on ridding Andy of the rest of his clothes while the other runs along his back until settling on the nape of Andy's neck. His fingers tangle in the curls and also keep Andy from continuing his teasing and focus more on the kissing.  
  
Andy can feel they're both dangerously close to letting go so he hurriedly strips the jeans off Richie and works his hand with both of their cocks. It doesn't take long before Richie gasps out, "So close, just..." One last tug and Richie's eyes close and his body collapses back on the bed, soon followed by Andy on top of him, both breathing ragged.  
  
When Andy's breathing settles, he slides off Richie's body and lies down on his side facing him. Andy is playing with the sweaty curls framing Richie's face, marveling at how peaceful and beautiful this sight is.  
  
Richie opens his eyes, first surprised by the tender touch, then the boyish grin greeting him. It's a sight he never expected to see. "You okay?"  
  
Andy nods. "You're reminding me why I wanted to be a photographer in the first place. It really wasn't about hot guys. Just the way pictures can sell a product or an idea. Maybe..." Then he suddenly jolts into a sitting position, exclaiming, "Mr. Safin!" At Richie's puzzled look, Andy says in a rush of words, "He's looking for a pitch for this cologne line, wanting a fresh face. He already likes your look but hasn't figured out a way to utilize you yet. If he can see..."  
  
Richie chuckles as he watches Andy searching frantically for his sketchbook. He doesn't really know if he'll ever feel a passion for modeling but he loves that Andy has woken up. If it means that Richie is Andy's muse, well, he's perfectly okay with that.


End file.
